


A Moment of Care

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Pre-Canon, Sickfic, Unresolved Romantic Tension, referenced canon child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: In which a young Duke has a fever, Lucy is a force of nature, and Garland really wishes that people understood his job description.
Relationships: Garland Wuornos & Duke Crocker, Lucy Ripley & Duke Crocker, Lucy Ripley/Garland Wuornos, Nathan Wuornos & Duke Crocker, Nathan Wuornos & Garland Wuornos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	A Moment of Care

**Author's Note:**

> I've been fascinated by the dynamic between Lucy and Garland from Season One, and that only grew with every new plot twist and detail. The fact that Season Five confirmed that there was something between them just makes me happy, and I wanted to explore that a little. 
> 
> I also wanted an excuse to show someone taking care of Duke for once. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Lucy’s lucky he loves her so much, because otherwise, he’d  _ really  _ hate her. 

“What in the world do you have there?” He asks, as if it isn’t already painfully obvious. He’s stalling for time, trying to think of a way out of whatever she’s going to ask him.

Her eyes flash defiantly, (never gives an inch, that one,) and she shifts the boy in her arms. “A sick kid. We’re going to take care of him.” 

“A sick  _ Crocker, _ ” he corrects, even as he steps back to let them in. It’s not that he’s cruel, but the kid  _ did  _ just fill his son’s back with tacks, and anyway, it isn’t his problem. Right? Duke has a father, after all, or at least an excuse for one. (Granted, a poor excuse, but still...) “Shouldn’t you be taking him to a hospital?”

“He has a fever,” she starts, completely ignoring his protests (of course). “We need to get his temperature down, fast.” 

A  _ fever? _ He stills, and she seems to sense that this is about more than a personal grudge, because she tilts her head to the side, questioning. 

He swallows, struggling for the words. “Fever’s nothing to mess with,” he mutters. “Elizabeth, she-she had one, and then-” He shrugs. “Didn’t even have time to blink. If he’s that bad, he needs to go see a doctor.” 

Her eyes soften in compassion, as they always do when he mentions his wife, but she doesn’t back down. “Simon will be furious.” She deposits Duke gently on the couch, running a hand through his errant curls. “And he’ll take it out on Duke. Better to take care of him ourselves if we can.”

Oh, if only he could find some  _ proof  _ that the boy’s father is tearing into him. It almost makes sense that Duke’s started acting out. Not that it excuses the tacks, by any means, but he  _ gets it.  _ But there’s no proof, and Duke absolutely refuses to admit it. Had a black eye for two days the last time Garland pushed, so he’s not about to make that mistake again. 

“Fine,” he mutters. Then, after a moment’s consideration- “You sure it’s safe for him to be here?”

She nods. “Simon’s passed out in a stupor. Has a couple more packs ready for when he wakes up. Doubt he’ll even be really awake for a day or two. But if we take Duke to a hospital…”

“They’ll send him the bill,” he finishes, resigned. “Okay. I’ll run upstairs and see what meds I can find. Maybe a wet rag, too.” At her surprised look, he huffs. “Nathan gets fevers too, you know? You just… Focus on keeping him calm.” Last thing his growing headache needs is a screaming, delirious kid. 

It’s not often that she takes orders, even if they’re implied, so he takes a second to appreciate it when she nods, sitting on the very edge of the couch. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, when Duke stirs. “You’re safe here.” 

He allows himself half a moment to watch her before he heads upstairs, absolutely refusing to let it become creepy. No matter how cute she is with kids, she has a deadline coming up, and he’s not about to try to distract her from it. 

By the time he gets back downstairs, Tylenol and wet rag in hand, Duke is once again calm. Lucy is humming softly, and he wants nothing more than to stand there and listen, but he shakes off the idea, stepping into view. 

“Okay, medicine, check. Rag, check.” 

She stands, taking the bottle from him. “Here, I’ll get this ready. You cool him off.”

He bites back a complaint, knowing it’ll do no good, and takes her abandoned spot. “Here you go, kid,” he mutters, hoping his voice is at least a little gentle. Duke doesn’t seem bothered, so there’s that. 

He presses the cloth to Duke’s head, and Duke sighs, nuzzling into the touch. 

… Well, his heart absolutely does  _ not  _ melt a little, no matter what look Lucy is giving him. He pointedly doesn’t meet her eyes, even though he can feel them on him. 

“Here.” She reappears at his side, small cup of Tylenol in hand. “Can you wake him up?” 

Tentatively, he pats Duke’s arm. “Hey, buddy. Gotta wake up, okay?” 

Duke starts, eyes wide and searching, breath not quite even. It isn’t clear what he’s seeing, but it definitely isn’t them. 

“Duke, you’re okay,” Lucy breathes, and of course, the kid goes utterly still. They’re helpless to her spell, every last one: kid or dog or idiot rookie cop. “I just need you to drink this, and you can go back to sleep. Okay?” 

He whimpers, but when she holds the cup up to his lips, he obediently drinks. 

“Good.” She strokes his cheek, frown deepening when she does so. “You’re really warm, aren’t you?” 

Duke shakes his head. “Cold,” he corrects weakly, words slurring together. “S’really cold.” 

A tear drips down his cheeks, and  _ dang it,  _ Garland isn’t a marshmallow, but he isn’t heartless, either. He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over Duke. Instantly, the kid relaxes, snuggling in. His eyes flutter shut, and Garland returns the rag to his forehead, shifting his attention to Lucy. 

“Want to tell me why you’re really doing this?” 

She stiffens. “He’s a kid and he needs help,” she says sharply, though she keeps her voice low. “Do I need another reason?” 

“Nope. But you have one.” Because he may not be with her, may not be lucky enough to hold her heart, but that’s one thing he can say: He  _ knows  _ her. No matter how hard she tries, there’s little she can hide from him. 

At first, it seems like she’s going to keep arguing. Then, all at once, the fight drains out of her, and she sighs. “I just… I want to help him, Gar. He’s not like his father. There’s something different about him.” 

He tries to keep from scoffing. Judging by her expression, he isn’t quite successful. 

“Luce, he’s eight. Not drinking and stealing yet, but give him time. Besides, he-you  _ know  _ what he did to Nathan, okay? He may look cute now, but he’s got Crocker blood in him, trust me on that.” 

She winces, and his gut twists a little, but she only asks, “Then why are you helping me?” 

He forces himself to take a breath before he replies. “Kid needs help. Not gonna not help him; ‘s my job.” Not that playing nursemaid is covered in the officer’s handbook, but that’s a minor detail. 

Silence. 

She looks up at him carefully, eyes unreadable. “I think we both know that isn’t the only reason,” she points out, and  _ oh. Oh no.  _ He very much does not want to have this conversation right now (or ever), but it doesn’t look like she’s giving him much choice. 

“Thought that was one of those things we didn’t talk about,” he tries with an awkward laugh, but she only shrugs. 

“We’re talking about it now.” She softens a little, reaching for his hand. And they’ve touched before, of course, but this is different. Pointed. Deliberate. It steadies him, enough for him to answer. 

“Luce, you know that I-” He starts, but an almost inhuman noise from beside them draws their attention away. 

Duke is  _ wailing,  _ and writhing under the jacket, tears trickling down his cheeks. Through it all, he still seems to be asleep. “‘m sorry, Daddy,” he whispers, and Garland has never hated a man as much as he hates Simon D. Crocker. “‘m sorry. Please-” 

Lucy’s mouth opens slowly, and she’s clearly trying to answer, but apparently the words won’t come. She’s always larger than life, but right now, she just seems small and terrified. 

This is up to him. 

“Duke, it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing his hand against the boy’s cheek. And Lucy wasn’t lying; he’s definitely burning up. “Safe here. No one’s gonna hurt you. Not gonna let ‘em.” 

Slowly, Duke goes still. Tears are still falling, but at least he isn’t thrashing around anymore. 

Lucy finally finds her voice, taking Duke’s hand. “I promise,” she whispers, and there’s something ferocious in her tone that speaks of more than soothing fevers. “I’m going to help you.” 

All at once, the tension drains from Duke, and he burrows in once more. 

They could continue their conversation from before, but Lucy doesn’t seem inclined to do that. Perfectly fine with him. Even if it seemed like she might have felt something for him too, it could never have lasted. She probably wouldn’t have wanted it to. Besides, she’s too important to this town for a distraction like him.

Lucy’s shaking all over, and at first, Garland thinks she’s about to cry. Then, she meets his eyes, and he realizes it isn’t pain she’s holding, but raw fury, the kind that could turn the world to ash. “He’s just a kid,” she bites out, voice raising a few notches too high. She glances down at Duke, swallows, and continues at a lower level. “Simon Crocker is a monster.” 

“Preaching to the choir.” He’s never been as good at this as her, but he takes a chance, patting her arm. It’s a little awkward, but her lips quirk up, and that more than makes it worthwhile. “Duke’s lucky you’re looking out for him.”

“I just wish I could do more.” 

He knows the feeling. Unwillingly, his mind flashes back to the first time he saw Nathan: small and terrified, curled into Elizabeth’s side. Lizzy hadn’t been willing to come forward and accuse Max, but she’d been willing to ask for a helping hand, and even then, he’d been helpless to do anything but give it to her. It’s part of the reason he decided to become a cop: to protect the world from the Max Hansens out there.

Now, once again, there is a woman he can’t refuse, and a child in need of saving. 

The only difference is, Duke isn’t Lucy’s to save. He cannot bring Duke under his roof; even if Simon were willing, it would hurt Nathan too much, and frankly, he doesn’t trust Duke enough to do it. However, Simon isn’t willing, and it isn’t Lucy’s call. 

“You’re here for him now,” he offers, because it’s the best he has. “Helping him.” 

She nods distractedly, eyes trailing over their patient. He cannot help but look as well, heart twisting. It’s easy to forget how  _ young  _ eight years old is, but looking at him now, he’s just… Tiny. Helpless. It’s hard to believe that he could hurt Nathan the way he did. 

Speaking of Nathan… At a familiar creak on the stairs, Garland raises his head, meeting his son’s eyes. Nathan has apparently decided to come down for breakfast, but he’s frozen on the staircase, staring down in horror.

“It’s okay,” Garland promises, although he’s not sure how much of a reassurance it is. “He’s sick. He needs help.” 

Nathan is impossibly pale, but nods, slowly making his way down the stairs. “I’m hungry,” he whispers, and Garland turns to Lucy, who waves. 

“Go. Take care of him. I’ve got this.” 

Bowing his head in silent thanks, he stands, gesturing for Nathan to follow him into the kitchen. For a second, he considers trying to cook something, but his mind is still lingering in the living room, and he has no desire to burn the house down.

Besides, Nathan’s clearly upset. Maybe he can have just one day of that ridiculous sugary cereal that he thinks qualifies as breakfast. 

Nathan’s quiet as Garland pours a bowl, and the tension on his little frame is unbearable. Finally, he clears his throat. “Why’s Duke here?” 

“I told you, he’s sick,” he replies, a bit sharper than he means to. Gentler, he adds, “He needs someone to take care of him.”

Nathan flinches, but nods. 

Garland can almost hear Lucy scolding him for not trying harder, so he swallows, grappling for words. “Look, son, I know it’s hard sometimes. But that’s part of my job. I have to help everyone, not just people I like. Right?” Nathan nods again, expression considering. “And right now, he’s not up for hurting anyone. But I promise you, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

Not now, and not ever. Duke may be under his care now, but if he decides to follow in his father’s footsteps, Garland has every intention of dealing with him. Sooner, rather than later, the way someone should have dealt with Simon long ago. 

Nathan seems to be at least a little calmer, so Garland rises, stopping by the coffee pot to pour a cup for him and one for Lucy. Then, he returns to the living room. 

Lucy is quiet, an oddity in itself. She’s sitting, keeping watch over Duke, not uttering a word. When she notices Garland, she raises her head, a smile flickering across her lips. “I think his fever’s breaking,” she murmurs, low enough that Duke doesn’t stir. 

Beside her, Duke groans, rolling onto his side. Garland’s jacket falls off him in the process, and he makes no move to tug it back up. 

“Not fun, but that’s a good sign,” Garland agrees, handing her the mug. (Her mug. He tries not to think about the fact that she has a mug at his house that is  _ her mug.  _ Nathan won’t even let him put hot chocolate in it when Lucy isn’t there, because it’s  _ hers. _ ) 

She lights up, taking the mug from him. “Oh, I love you,” she murmurs, and he freezes, mind going inconveniently blank. Before he can summon a response, she laughs. “I was talking to the coffee,” she clarifies, eyes sparkling, and he chuckles. 

“Of course you were,” he shoots back, unsure of whether he’s disappointed or relieved. (Because he doesn’t know how to _do_ this. It only worked with Elizabeth because of her patient dedication, and Lucy doesn’t have _time_ for that. She’s too busy protecting the town.) 

He takes a sip of coffee to hide whatever expression he might be making, pointedly turning back to Duke. 

Silence settles over them, full of words unsaid, but somehow comfortable. No matter what, he has to admit that he’s glad to be by her side. Even if that means getting dragged into babysitting a sick Crocker. Even if it means losing a coffee cup. Even if it means biting his tongue a little too hard to keep from blurting out words he doesn’t even remember how to say. 

She’s worth it all. 

At length, she clears her throat. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “For helping me. You’re a really good man.” 

There’s something oddly thoughtful in her tone, as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with a  _ good man.  _ Or perhaps she just hasn’t met many. He can’t say he’s altogether comfortable with the title, but he’s hardly going to try to argue with her when she’s looking at him like that. 

“Whatever you need,” he says, and it’s too much and too little all at once. “Just doing my job.” 

Maybe if he says it enough, one of them will believe it. 

-

It’s another hour before Lucy deems Duke ‘ready to go.’ The fever’s gone, thankfully, although the poor kid still seems exhausted. He’s fading in and out of sleep, still snuggled in Garland’s jacket. 

“I need to get him back,” Lucy says finally, with clear reluctance. “Before Simon notices he’s missing.” 

It takes everything in him not to argue. Instead, he only raises a brow. “Sure it’s safe? If he catches you….”

“I’ll wing it.” She gives him a dry smile, scooping Duke up in her arms. “Besides, it’s not like Simon Crocker has ever complained about a woman on his boat before.”

That’s… He doesn’t like the implications there, for so many reasons. And while he’s self-aware enough to admit that jealousy is one of them, it’s a small one in the face of his overwhelming dread. The thought of her having to do something she doesn’t want to do, of having to  _ charm  _ such an awful man, is just sickening. But it’s not like she’s  _ wrong,  _ and he knows better than to try to argue with her. 

“Be careful,” he tries, because he can’t say  _ nothing.  _

She only laughs, which is about the farthest thing from surprising… Or reassuring. But with her, it’s sometimes the best he can hope for. __

“Hey, Luce, about earlier... “ He almost tells her. Almost brings up their conversation about  _ them,  _ about his motives and her feelings and everything they do not say. But for today, there’s something more important he needs to clear up. “He’s a Crocker, but… If anyone can save him, it’s you.” 

She gives him an almost blinding smile. “Thank you, Garland.” Then, before he can think to process, she leans forward, brushing her lips across his cheek. It’s feather-light, and then she’s gone, leaving him alone on the porch with a sappy grin and a childish hope. 

_ Only Lucy,  _ he thinks, shaking his head.  _ Only Lucy.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> A note on Nathan: I find it highly unlikely that he never met Lucy. Given how foggy parts of his memories of that year are, and given the things he does remember, I think something probably happened with a Trouble when he was a kid. It affected his memory, so he forgot Lucy. 
> 
> Also, I just found the idea of him insisting that no one use Lucy's mug adorable. I wanted to include something about Lucy testing something to make sure it wasn't too hot for him, but I couldn't make it fit.


End file.
